Massey touched the lives of thousands during his coaching and teaching career, but none more than those of two of his sons, Anthony and Damien, who spent four years playing for their father at Jordan.

Here are their favorite memories of their father, as well as a few memories from players who maintained a relationship with Coach Massey after their years at Jordan.

Anthony Massey, son, played under his father, 1997-01

My grandfather used to say, “Blessed is the man who has found his work,” and my dad had definitely found his work. He truly loved coaching and teaching and loved them both equally. As successful as he was, he was always very easygoing, humble and had a great love for people.

I began following in his footsteps this year, coaching at Downey High under Larry Shelton. At games, many people in the high school basketball world would tell me how great a coach my father was. I used to always say to myself or to the person, “He was an even better father.” He set an amazing example as a father, friend and professional for all who came in contact with him.

I have 5 million stories of my dad, but the one we most recently talked about, at his birthday lunch on March 15, wasn’t the three CIF championships he won but the championship that got away from him in 2006. After that game, as I held the ball bag, we walked off the court, just he and I. The opponents’ fan section was near the tunnel on the way to the locker room. As we neared the tunnel, most, if not all, of the opposing fans stood up to give my dad a standing ovation. They literally stood up to clap for my dad.

We talked about how special that moment was and that it seemed like a scene from a movie. That’s just a testament to the respect and admiration that people had for my father.

Damien Massey, son, played under his father, 2000-04.

One of the biggest memories that sticks out to me was going to the CIF championship games in the ’90s, along with my brothers and youth league teammates, and wandering all around the arenas. My dad would talk the CIF officials into allowing my youth basketball teammates and me to shoot around and play on the court prior to the game. That experience at such a young age was one to remember because we always watched NBA games on TV and dreamed of one day playing in an arena. And it was sort of like he made it happen for me.

My dad always found a way to make me feel like a part of everything that he did, whether it was teaching, being the football announcer, being the athletic director or as a coach. He would let me travel with the team to games, be the water boy or ball boy, sit on the bench, be in the locker room, watch film, help him take stats, call in scores to the newspaper, go to the CIF office to get playoff pairings and other things. But whether I got to do all of that depended on my grades and behavior. He made it known that basketball and everything that came with it were a privilege, not a gift.

One thing that I always admired about my dad is how modest he was, in addition to being funny. During the ’90s, when he was most successful at Jordan, I can remember that no matter what the rankings were, or if Jordan was the defending league champs, when asked about the upcoming season and how the team was looking, he would say things like, “We might not win a game this year,” or “We scrimmaged the girls team the other day and lost by 20.” He never wanted extra attention. He only wanted his kids to work and play hard because he knew that would equal positive results.

He also embraced being an underdog and accepted the challenge of being at a school near two CIF basketball powerhouses in Poly and Dominguez. He may not have had the most talented players, but he would work with the neighborhood students who did decide to attend Jordan, and he had to train them to be tougher mentally and physically. He would even turn down players who were considering transferring into Jordan, often encouraging them to stay loyal to the schools where they started.

Travon Bryant, Massey’s only McDonald’s All-American

As a coach, he stayed on me and always pushed me to a (higher) level physically and mentally. When I was young, I didn’t fully understand the purpose of it, but he was preparing me for life. He always said, “If you can survive my practices, you can survive life.”

I always appreciated how he would peek his head into our classes to make sure we were staying on top of our schoolwork. He did that to all of his players, regardless of what level you were on. That showed a part of his huge character, in how he was concerned for our well being. It was bigger than wins and losses with him. He knew that our education would take us further than a basketball.

He used to tell me, “Don't let basketball use you; you use basketball.” People who only saw him as a coach will never understand the fatherly impact he had on young males from north Long Beach. In that area, you needed guidance, and he went above and beyond to make sure we were all safe.

Whenever you went to Jordan, you saw former players coming back and catching up and always giving thanks to one of the fathers of Long Beach. It will be tough to not see him or hear his voice. But I will always hear that deep baritone voice in my mind and be reminded that I was blessed to have a mentor, coach and father figure help mold me in my life.

Brantley Watson, sportswriter for the Long Beach Register, played for Massey, 2001-04

We used to have the hardest practices, I’m sure, in all of Southern California. And the funny thing is, players from the past would come back and watch us practice and tell us that we had it easy. I can’t believe that.

Coach didn’t play when it came to working hard, and some of his conditioning ideas still weigh on my mind. I never fully grasped how all of that running would help us when it came to game time, but it was actually quite simple: running up and down the court all game was child’s play compared to the running we would do on the Jordan track.

I can remember one time I made up my mind in the morning before school that I wasn’t going to practice that day. I wore a “cool” outfit to school, which consisted of a huge black T-shirt, some way-too-baggy Timbaland sweats and some Timbaland boots to match. I thought I was fly.

Purposely, I left my basketball gear at home. I would simply tell Coach that I forgot my gear. Easy enough.

So after school, it’s time to suit up and practice. Today, we’re on the bleachers. And when we went to the bleachers, it wasn’t just running up and down. Our bleacher workouts consisted of partnering up with a teammate that was about our size and carrying him on our backs, up and down the bleachers.

So I walk out to the track and break the news to coach, “I don’t have my shoes, Coach.”

Massey pauses and looks me up and down. “You got shoes on right there,” Massey says, as he points to the bleachers and walks away.

I’m climbing up the bleachers, teammate on my back, pants drenched in sweat, in a brand-new pair of boots.

User Agreement

Keep it civil and stay on topic. No profanity, vulgarity, racial
slurs or personal attacks. People who harass others or joke about
tragedies will be blocked. By posting your comment, you agree to
allow Orange County Register Communications, Inc. the right to
republish your name and comment in additional Register publications
without any notification or payment.